


Like Real People Do

by nonbinaryspock



Series: Will You Go to Hell With Me [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: A little bit anyway, College AU, I'll probably update the tags as I go, M/M, regional gothic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 14,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinaryspock/pseuds/nonbinaryspock
Summary: Gotham City is a shithole. That is objective fact. However, since Gotham is so much of a shithole, the cost of living is surprisingly low. It’s the perfect place to go if you’re a broke college student living with your equally broke boyfriend with no support from either of your families whatsoever.It’s the perfect place to go if you don’t mind being held at knifepoint at least once a month.





	1. The Star

Gotham City is a shithole. That is objective fact. The city is full of rampant crime and corrupt politicians and altogether too many people. However, since Gotham is so much of a shithole, the cost of living is surprisingly low. It’s the perfect place to go if you’re a broke college student living with your equally broke boyfriend with no support from either of your families whatsoever. It’s the perfect place to go if you don’t mind being held at knifepoint at least once a month.

Jonathan got accepted to Gotham University. It’s not the best school he got accepted to, but they offered him nearly a full scholarship and he can’t afford tuition anywhere else. Edward didn’t apply anywhere. Claims he’s too smart for college. Every once in a while he shows up to classes, just for something to do. Just to show off. No one seems to notice he’s not enrolled in the class. No one seems to notice he’s not enrolled in the school. The professors always grade his work.

They both work. Jonathan works in retail. He hates it. He hates people. Teenagers are usually the least awful, oddly enough. Most of them are polite. Few of them are actively rude. An old woman comes in every Thursday. Always ends up at his station. He smiles at her. Ignores the way his stomach churns when he sees her. Ignores the way his hands shake. He always smiles at her.

In spite of everything, it’s not that bad. He’s away from Arlen for the first time in his life. Away from his grandmother. He can finally do all the things that normal people get to do. And he gets to come home to Edward. Gets to see him every day without worrying about people finding out. Without worrying about what people will think.

In spite of everything, things are finally getting better.


	2. Nine of Swords

Jonathan bolts upright, his heart pounding in his chest. He struggles to catch his breath, gasping slightly. He starts to shake, pushing his fingers through his hair. Digs his nails into his scalp.

He feels Edward stir beside him and he does his best to sit still, not wanting to wake him. He seems to still be asleep, so Jonathan carefully slides out of bed. Goes into the other room.

He sits heavily on the couch, picking up his laptop. If he’s going to be awake for the rest of the night he might as well get some work done. The computer whirs loudly when he turns it on. It’s a cheap piece of shit and it’s probably going to die any day now, but he’ll worry about that when the time comes.

He opens the document containing his research paper. Sociology. It’s an interesting class, but the workload is hell. He squints. He’s in desperate need of glasses, has been for years. He can see well enough without them, but reading has become increasingly difficult. He sighs. Stares blankly at the document.

“Jonathan.”

“Go back to bed,” he mumbles. Types something. He’s not sure if this essay makes sense at all, but he’s not going to start over.

Edward yawns. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine. Go back to bed,” he says again. He’s rewritten the same sentence approximately ten times. He rewrites it again.

He settles on the couch next to Jonathan, leaning against his shoulder. “Nightmares?” he murmurs.

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He closes his eyes. “What’re you working on?”

“Research paper. For Sociology.”

“Mm. What’s it about?”

“Different theories about socialization and stages of development.”

“Explain.”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t really want to hear ‘bout this.”

“It’s interesting.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“Tell me about your paper.” He nestles against Jonathan’s chest.

He sighs. Launches into a lengthy description of the various theories he’s researching. Starts with Cooley’s “looking-glass self”—it’s the shortest and easiest to explain. He moves on to Kohlberg’s theory of moral development. Skips over Erikson’s eight stages of development—it’s interesting but it takes too long to list and explain each stage. Edward listens, asking questions here and there.

Somewhere around Piaget’s second stage of cognitive development—the preoperational stage—Edward begins to doze off. Jonathan keeps talking until he’s sure he’s asleep. Gently shifts him into a more comfortable position. Jonathan presses a quick kiss to his forehead before moving to the other side of the sofa to finish his essay.


	3. Ace of Cups

There’s a girl in Jonathan’s psychology class. A girl with mousy brown hair and thick, round glasses. She always sits near him during class. She talks a lot, but he doesn’t really mind. She’s nice enough, and a good study partner when he needs one. He likes her. At least, as much as he likes anyone.

She sets a coffee cup on his desk. “You look tired.”

“I am.” He picks up the coffee. “You didn’t have to get me this.”

She shrugs. Sits down next to him. “I know this place that does free coffee every Friday so I figured why not just grab an extra. Besides, seems like you need it more than I do.” She sips her own drink. “Do you _ever_ sleep? You look exhausted every time I see you, I mean, I know college is rough but you can’t pull an all-nighter _every_ night.”

“I reckon my sleep schedule is fucked up beyond repair at this point,” he mumbles. Takes a drink. “Haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I was, like, nine.”

“That’s so sad.”

“I know.”

She takes out her phone. Frowns at it, typing something quickly. Sets it down on the desk. “Do you want to get lunch today?”

“What?”

“I was gonna get lunch with my boyfriend but he had to cancel and now I have nothing to do for like an hour so do you wanna hang out?”

He shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

“Cool. Where should I meet you?”

“Outside the library?”

“Works for me.”


	4. Three of Cups

“I mean, I dunno, this is like the fifth time he’s bailed on me and every time I call him on it he’s all ‘Harley, I love you, I’m just super swamped with school, we’ll hang out tomorrow, I promise,’ but whenever I hit him up he bails so like honestly why are we even dating if we never fucking see each other? Like, I’ve got school too but I still have time to see him for like a couple hours.”

“Mm.” Jonathan steals one of her fries. “Dump him.”

“Do you think I should?”

“I dunno, it just doesn’t seem like y’all like each other that much.” He shrugs. “If it’s not serious anyway you might as well just break up with him.”

Harley sighs. “I guess.”

“I mean, you don’t have to listen to me. It’s not like I know anything ‘bout dating.” He snags another fry.

“You’re probably right though.” She smacks his hand away. “You already had your own fries, quit taking mine.”

“Sorry.” He takes one more fry.

“Knock it off!”

“That was the last one, I promise.”

She moves the paper tray out of his reach nonetheless, squinting threateningly at him. “I got my eye on you, mister.”

He rolls his eyes. Checks his watch. “Shit, I gotta go. Don’t wanna be late for work.”

“You have a job?”

“Of course I have a job, what are you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“I don’t have a job.”

“How do you pay for anything?”

“My parents send me money every once in a while. And I had some saved up from high school.”

He shakes his head. “Lucky you.” He picks up his bag. “See you in class.”

“See ya.”


	5. Seven of Pentacles

Jonathan’s shift starts at three o’clock. He arrives, changes into his work clothes. Smiles politely at a coworker. Her eyes are sunken and glassy. She picks up her bag. Smiles back. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Retail is hell.

He folds all the shirts on the displays. Removes all the misplaced items and puts them back where they belong. He passes by the display a few minutes later. Nearly everything has been unfolded, crumpled, and tossed haphazardly into a pile. A pair of jeans is tucked beneath the shirts. A children’s toy is stuffed into the bottom shelf. He sighs. Starts over. He always has to start over.

A customer asks if they sell an item. He tells him they do not. They never have. He asks him to check in the back. Jonathan forces a smile. Goes into the back. Waits five minutes before coming back. He apologizes sweetly. Tells him they do not carry that item. They have never carried that item.

He works at the register. Serves customer after customer. The line never gets any shorter. There are no other lanes open. There are no other cashiers. He can’t remember the last time he saw another cashier. He serves another customer.

He’s seen the same old woman in line six different times. She only buys mothballs. He makes the mistake of commenting on the amount of mothballs she’s purchased. The old woman smiles knowingly. Says nothing. He gets the sinking feeling it’s not moths she’s trying to keep away. He gets the sinking feeling it’s something much worse. He sees her in line a seventh time.

Jonathan sighs. He checks the clock. 3:32. He groans. The clock must be broken. He checks his watch. 3:25. Checks the clock again. 3:10. His heart sinks. He’s never going to finish his shift. He’s never going to leave the store. He sees the old woman again. She’s carrying a hunting knife. They do not sell hunting knives. He doesn’t want to know what she’s hunting.

Has she always been that tall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if anyone noticed or cares but i changed all the chapter titles lol i was gonna do song titles but that was too much efort so i went back to tarot cards i know it's not a big deal at all but i just felt like i should mention it


	6. Two of Pentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some domestic nonsense

Jonathan drops his bag next to the couch, flopping down onto the cushions.

“Hey,” Edward calls from the kitchen, stirring something in a pot.

“Hi.”

“How was class?”

“Long.” He sighs, rubbing his eyes. “How was work?”

Edward groans. “This lady yelled at me because I couldn’t get her a table even though it was the lunch rush and she didn’t make a reservation. I told her she could wait for a table to open up but I couldn’t guarantee anything.” He takes a jar out of the fridge. “Then she made me get the manager, which was a total waste of time because the manager just told her the same thing _I_ did. Eventually she left, but I promise you she’s sitting at home right now writing an angry Yelp review.” He shakes his head, putting the lid back on the pot and turning the stove off. “I fucking hate working in the service industry. People are so stupid.”

“Tell me ‘bout it,” he mutters. “What’re you making?”

“Pasta.”

Edward can cook. More importantly, he can cook well on a budget. He’s been pretty poor since he was a kid, so he learned how to make cheap, substantial meals at an early age. Pasta is a staple. Jonathan knows they’ll inevitably get sick of pasta, but he hopes that by the time they do they’ll have enough money to buy real food every once in a while.

He strains the pot, dumping the jar of sauce into it once all the water is gone. Stirs. “Can you get plates?”

“Yeah.” He gets up from the couch, going into the tiny kitchen. Opens up a cabinet. Takes out two plates. “Thanks for cooking.” He always makes sure to thank Edward when he cooks.

“You’re welcome.” He kisses Jonathan’s cheek before beginning to fix their plates.


	7. Four of Swords

Edward stretches out on the bed, sighing contentedly. He’s wearing only his boxers and a pair of knee high socks—teal with black birds on them. One of his favorite pairs. He looks over at Jonathan. “You alright?” he murmurs. He’s gotten into the habit of asking. Gotten into the habit of checking on him.

Jonathan nods, tugging on his shirt. “It’s getting easier,” he mumbles.

“Good.” He rolls over onto his side, propping his head up with his arm. “Did you finish your paper?”

“Which one?”

“Sociology.”

He nods again. “It was due yesterday. Just got assigned a Psych paper though.”

“Christ. I’m glad I’m not in college.”

“You keep sayin’ that, and yet you still show up to classes half the time.”

He shrugs. “Something to do.”

Jonathan scoffs. “Sure.” He gets up. Goes into the bathroom. He turns on the faucet, splashing some water on his face. He stares at himself in the mirror. Stares a little too long. He looks away.

“When’s your birthday?”

He glances up. He can see Edward collecting his discarded clothes from the doorway. “Not for a while.”

“But when is it?”

“November.”

He can practically hear Edward rolling his eyes. “What _day_?”

“Sixteenth.” He dries his hands.

“So I missed it last year?”

“I guess.”

Edward pouts. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gotten you something.”

“I dunno, guess I didn’t think of it. It’s not like I’ve ever celebrated or anything.”

“You’ve never celebrated your birthday?”

“Never. Granny said birthdays promote greed.”

“Well we have to do something nice this year,” he declares. “It’s positively unacceptable that you’ve never done anything for your birthday.”

“Really, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.” He goes back into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Indulge me,” Edward murmurs. He sits down beside him. Kisses the base of his neck. Nips gently at his skin.

He sighs. “Okay.”

Edward smiles. “Thank you.” Kisses his cheek. He gets up again. “I’m gonna take a shower. You should try and get some sleep.”

“Believe me, I’m tryin’.” He lies back on the bed. “Sorry I keep wakin’ you up.”

“It’s okay. _I’m_ not the one who has to be in class at eight in the morning.” He frowns slightly. “I just wish you could sleep through the night for once.”

“I know. I’m trying.”


	8. Page of Cups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a little bit of a longer chapter whoops not sure if i like it i may edit it tomorrow or smth

“What are we doing here again?” Jonathan asks, glancing around the store. It’s some department store he’s never heard of and probably would never have entered if not for Harley’s influence. He doesn’t like big stores.

“I need to get a birthday present for one of my friends. I’m not sure what I’m gonna get her yet, but I know she likes this store.” Harley grabs his elbow, leading him through the aisles. “Thanks for coming, by the way. Shopping alone is no fun.”

 “Sure.” He checks his watch. “I gotta go at two-thirty though.”

“Go where?”

“Work.”

“But it’s Saturday,” she whines.

“People work on Saturday.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not fair you don’t get a full weekend,” she says. Flips over the tag on a dress. “What’d you get on the psych paper?”

“B plus. You?”

She grins. “A minus.”

“Good job.”

“Thanks. Maybe someday you can be as smart as me,” she teases. “What do you think of this?” she asks, holding up a necklace.

He shrugs. “It’s fine, I guess.”

She frowns. Puts it back. “It’s not really her style,” she says to herself. “Do you know Rebecca?”

“No.”

“I think you’d like her. She’s smart. Wants to be a lawyer.” She pokes him in the ribs. “She’s siiingle,” she adds.

“I’m seeing someone.”

She perks up. “Really? You’ve been dating someone this _whole_ time and you didn’t tell me?”

He shrugs. “It never really came up.”

“Still, I think it’s worth mentioning.”

They pass a rack of patterned socks. He pauses, glancing over them. He thinks he can probably afford to get a pair for Edward. He searches the rack, trying to find something he might like.

“I didn’t take you for a sock guy,” Harley remarks, picking up a pair with a Klimt painting on them.

“I’m not. I was thinkin’ of getting them for someone else.” He frowns. Selects a pair with purple argyle. Checks the price. It’s reasonable. “What d’you think of these?”

“They’re cute, if you like argyle. Who’re you getting ‘em for?”

“My, um, my boyfriend.” He says it quickly and quietly, unsure of how she’ll react. He shouldn’t be this worried. She’s not like the people he knew in Arlen. Still, there’s always the possibility that she could get uncomfortable or angry and then she might—

He focuses intently on the socks, turning them over in his hands.

“Does he like argyle?”

“I think so.” Jonathan still doesn’t look at her. She doesn’t seem upset or put off at all. He should be relieved, but it seems too simple. It’s never this simple.

“Then get ‘em.” She puts the Klimt socks back. “Come on, I still need to find something for Becky.” She grabs his arm again, pulling him towards another section of the store.

“Harley.”

“What’s up?” She picks up an embossed notebook, thumbing through the pages.

He swallows. Clears his throat. “I’m—you don’t care that I’m—”

“That you’re gay?”

“I’m not exactly—”

“Or bi, or queer, or whatever you prefer.” She waves her hand. “I don’t care.”

“Really?” It _can’t_ be this simple.

“Do people usually care?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She shrugs. Picks up another notebook. Red with a gold pattern on the front. “Well, it’s not a big deal to me. I mean, _I’m_ bi so it’d be pretty weird if I had an issue with _you_ not being straight.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Okay.”

She squeezes his arm lightly. “C’mon, we’re friends. It’s gonna take a lot more than that for me to not wanna hang out with you.”

He nods, momentarily relieved. “Yeah, okay. Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Anytime.” She holds up a navy blue notebook with a silver design on the cover. “What do you think of this?”

“It’s nice.”

Harley runs her hand over the cover. “I think she’ll like it. It’s super pretty, and she’s kinda old-fashioned so I bet she likes actual notebooks for notes. I think I’m gonna get it.”

“Sounds good.” He bites his lip, still a bit surprised by how well that went. He’s never exactly told anyone about his sexuality. Maybe it’s not as big of a deal as his upbringing would lead him to believe.

“You ready to go pay?” she asks, digging her wallet out of her bag.

“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”


	9. Queen of Cups

Jonathan presses his lips against Edward’s throat, bringing one hand to his hip. Lets his teeth graze his skin.

Edward gasps quietly, closing his hand around a fistful of Jonathan’s hair. He groans as Jonathan bites him again, harder this time. Slips his other hand under his shirt. “Kiss me,” he mumbles. “I want you to kiss me.”

He obliges, a bit clumsily at first. Edward doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he just doesn’t mind. He kisses him again. Traces his tongue over his lower lip.

Edward’s grip on his hair tightens. He kisses him back, pressing his fingers against the small of his back. He sighs as Jonathan returns his attention to his neck, sucking lightly on the skin just above his collarbone. Shivers. “Fuck,” he mumbles. Drags his nails up Jonathan’s back.

He bites back a gasp, his body tensing. He pulls away.

“Everything okay?” Edward murmurs.

He nods. “I need a minute.” He clears his throat. “I got you somethin’,” he says, getting up from the bed.

“Really? When?” He sits up, obviously excited.

“Today. Went shopping with a friend from class.” He digs through his bag, retrieving the socks. Tosses them towards Edward. “I saw these. Thought you might like ‘em.” He sits back down on the bed.

Edward beams, turning them over in his hands. “They’re so cute. Soft, too.” He looks up at Jonathan. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

He shrugs. “I know. D’you like them?”

He nods. “I love them. Thank you.”

Jonathan offers a small smile. Kisses Edward’s forehead. “You don’t have to work tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I switched shifts with one of the guys at work because he had an appointment or something.”

“Ah.” He presses his lips below Edward’s ear.

“Do you have schoolwork?”

“Some.” He trails his tongue over his earlobe. Grins as Edward sighs and relaxes against him. He runs his fingertips over his thigh.

“Mm.” He grasps the back of Jonathan’s shirt. “We should probably eat,” he murmurs.

“It can wait.” He kisses his jaw.

“You sure?” he asks quietly.

“Positive.”


	10. Queen of Swords

“Did you get the mail?” Edward asks, sprawled lazily on the couch. He’s reading something. _A Clockwork Orange._

Jonathan holds up the stack of envelopes so Edward can see.

He closes his book. “Anything interesting?”

He shuffles through the pile. “Not really. Junk, mostly.” He frowns. There’s a letter on the bottom of the pile. Handwritten, it seems. There’s no name on the front, but the address is from somewhere in Metropolis. He tears it open. Skims it.

His stomach lurches. He reads the letter over again, more carefully this time. Wants to make sure he read it correctly. This can’t be real. How did she get his address?

Edward sits up on the couch, twisting around to look at him. “Jonathan? You good?”

“I’m fine.” There’s a phone number at the bottom of the page. He’s not going to call it. He can’t.

“What’s that?”

“Nothin’.” He stuffs the letter back into the envelope. “Where’s Metropolis?”

“Not far. It’s near Manhattan I think?” He shrugs. “I’ve never been.”

“Hm.”

“Why?”

“Just wondering.” He folds the envelope in half, shoving it into his pocket. “I’m gonna try and do some studying. I’ve got a test comin’ up.”

“Okay. Lemme know if you need any help or anything.”

“I will.”

He goes into their room, closing the door. Opens his laptop. His stomach is still churning. His fingers start to tremble. He turns off his phone, depositing it in a drawer. He’s not going to call her. It’s not like she deserves it. She doesn’t deserve anything from him.


	11. Four of Cups

Jonathan wakes with a strangled yell, his heart thudding in his chest. He struggles to catch his breath as his body begins to shake. He can feel Edward wrap an arm around him—he must have woken up when Jonathan did. He’s saying something, but he can’t focus enough to listen. He curls onto his side, facing away from Edward. Clutches the sheets.

Edward kisses the top of his head. Murmurs something into his hair. He runs his fingers up and down Jonathan’s arm, kissing the nape of his neck. Jonathan’s breathing begins to slow but he continues to shake uncontrollably. Edward presses against him, moving his hand to run his fingers through Jonathan’s hair.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t worry about it.” He kisses his neck again. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little.” He turns toward Edward, burying his face in the curve of his neck.

“I’ve never seen you have a nightmare that bad,” he murmurs, smoothing his hair back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He wraps one arm tightly against Edward’s waist. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Shh.” He continues stroking his hair. “Do you think you’ll be able to get back to sleep?”

“No. You should try though.”

“I’ll be okay. You, on the other hand, need rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“It’s fine.”

Edward sighs. “Maybe sleeping pills would help? You could try taking melatonin.”

“Maybe.” He’s finally stopped shaking. He shifts, trying to make himself more comfortable against Edward’s chest.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you.” He presses a quick kiss against his collarbone.

“Mhm.”

“Edward?”

“Yeah?”

“Could I borrow the truck next week? Just for a day.”

“Sure, why?”

“Visiting someone. In Metropolis.”

Edward raises an eyebrow. “Who do you know in Metropolis?”

He swallows. “Long story. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Is everything okay?” he asks quietly.

“It’s… it’s complicated.”


	12. Six of Cups

Jonathan sits in the truck, bouncing his leg nervously. He looks out the window. He’s parked in front of a house. Her house. He shouldn’t have come. He doesn’t want to see her. He gets out of the truck. Walks up to the front door. He hesitates, his finger hovering over the doorbell. He should leave. He shouldn’t be here.

He’s already pressed the doorbell. Shit. Well, it’s too late now.

The door swings open. A man stands in the doorway. He seems slightly confused. “Can I help you?”

“I’m, uh… is Karen here?” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“How do you know Karen?”

“She’s my—she’s expecting me, I think. I called a few days ago.”

Something seems to click and he nods. “Oh. You’re… I’ll go get her.” He disappears into the house. Jonathan stands awkwardly in the doorway. He could just leave now. He has time. He could just get in the truck and leave and go home.

He hears footsteps. He should’ve just left, God, what was he thinking? And then he sees her. His stomach lurches.

“You came,” Karen says. Looks him up and down. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so… tall.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t really know what to say to that. He doesn’t know what to say at all.

“Do you want to come inside?” she offers.

“Uh. Okay.” He follows her into the house. Children’s toys litter the floor. There’s a crib in the corner. He tries not to look at it.

She goes into the dining room. Sits down at the table. He doesn’t sit. He’s reluctant to touch anything.

“I guess this is pretty weird for you, huh?” she says.

“That’s one way of puttin’ it.”

“How old are you now?”

“Eighteen. Almost nineteen.”

“Are you in college?”

“Yes.”

“In Gotham, right?”

“Yes.”

“Terrible city.”

“It’s affordable.”

She frowns. “Are you paying for everything yourself?”

“I live with someone. He helps pay bills and stuff.”

“Oh.” She clears her throat. “You can sit down, if you want.”

He does. Sits in the furthest seat from her. He studies her. She has the same eyes as him. Her hair is lighter than his, though. Closer to blonde than brown. He didn’t expect her to look like that. He’s not really sure what he expected, though. She looks… healthy.

She leans forward. “I guess you probably don’t remember me at all.”

“No.”

“Did Mom ever talk about me?”

“Sometimes.” Granny always made sure to remind him that his mother was a thief and an addict and that he’d probably turn out the same way. He neglects to mention that.

She sighs. Tucks her hair behind her ears. “I bet the whole Goddamn town had something to say after I left. I mean, you lived there. You know how people are.”

“I do.” He taps his fingers against his thigh. “Why’d you want me to come here?” he asks.

She looks surprised, as if she wasn’t expecting the question. “You’re my son,” she says softly.

“Since when does that matter to you?” It sounds harsher than he intended it to.

She purses her lips. “You’ve got to understand, I was only seventeen. I couldn’t take care of a _child_ , I mean, I wasn’t ready.”

“Then you shouldn’t’ve had one,” he mutters.

“I know,” she mumbles. “And I’m sorry. I know it must have been hard for you.”

He refrains from scoffing. Says nothing.

“At least Mom was taking care of you. You could’ve ended up in foster care or something, which probably would’ve been way worse. People really treat those kids like shit sometimes.”

He digs his fingernails into his leg. Still says nothing.

“Jonathan?”

“What was Granny like? With you, I mean.”

She shrugs. “I mean, she was a mean old bitch but she meant well. And she was always right about me. I… I made a lot of dumb choices. I should’ve listened to her.”

“Oh.” His throat feels tight. So it was just him. She just hated _him_.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering.” He looks at his watch. “I should get going,” he mutters. He doesn’t really have anywhere to be but he doesn’t want to be there anymore. He can’t. He gets up from his seat.

“Oh, okay.” She stands as well. “It was good to see you.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Thanks. For, uh, inviting me.”

“Of course.” She reaches for his arm. He lets her. “If you ever need anything, you can—”

“Thanks,” he says quickly. “I appreciate it.”

He leaves. Gets into the truck. He sits for a moment. Feels his heart pounding in his chest. He exhales a shaky breath.

He shouldn’t have come.


	13. Six of Swords

“Smoking kills.”

Jonathan stubs out his cigarette, flicking it onto the sidewalk. “Are you gonna gimme a lecture about it?” he mutters.

“I don’t lecture.” Edward sits down on the steps of their building next to Jonathan. “I take it things didn’t go very well.”

“Yeah.” He wants to light another cigarette, but he knows Edward wouldn’t like it. He probably should try to quit.

“What happened?” Edward asks.

“I don’t want to talk ‘bout it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He sighs, putting his hands over his face. “God, what was I thinking?” he mumbles.

“It’s not unreasonable to want to meet your mother.”

“That woman is not my mother,” he snaps. “She never was and she never will be.”

Edward sighs, motioning for Jonathan to come closer. He moves toward Edward enough to rest his head on his shoulder. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to talk about it?” he asks again.

Jonathan scowls. “She said I was lucky to live with Granny,” he mutters. “And then—” He cuts himself off. It makes him nauseous just thinking about it.

“And then?” Edward coaxes, his fingers twisting into Jonathan’s hair.

“She said…” He swallows. “Granny never treated her like she treated me,” he says quietly. “She doesn’t even know about… I didn’t tell her any of what happened.”

“Why not?”

“Why bother? It’s not like she can do anything ‘bout it and even if she could I’ll probably never see her again. No use in makin’ her feel sorry for me.”

“Don’t you want her to feel bad for abandoning you?”

“I do but… ” He trails off. “I don’t want her to pity me.”

“Mm.” He continues stroking his hair.

“Besides, she couldn’t’ve known what would happen. I mean, she couldn’t’ve known how much Granny was gonna hate me. How much everyone was gonna hate me.”

“Not everyone.”

“No,” he mumbles. “Not everyone.” He says it more to himself than Edward.

“Are you going to come back inside?”

“In a minute.” He lifts his head off Edward’s shoulder, allowing him to stand up.

“Don’t stay out too long.”

“Okay.” He waits until Edward disappears inside the building. Lights another cigarette. Inhales.

He should have just left well enough alone.


	14. Page of Wands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just college kids doin college stuff

“I hate this.”

“C’mon, give it a minute.”

“I feel like I’m gonna have a fuckin’ panic attack.”

“You’re fine.”

Jonathan stares blankly up at the ceiling of Harley’s car. He’s been staring at it for too long. She’s going to think he’s weird. She’s going to—oh God, she’s saying something. He hasn’t been listening at all. Listen. Listen. _Listen_. He’s thinking so hard about listening that he’s rendered himself unable to listen. This was a terrible idea.

“…and um… yeah, I think I’m gonna dye my hair blonde. It’s like a real fuck you to that guy I used to like, y’know? Like… joke’s on you I can be smart _and_ blonde like… Reese Witherspoon in that movie.” Harley sighs wistfully. “God, I’d die for Reese Witherspoon.”

“Uh huh.”

“How you holding up?”

“Yeah.” He’s still barely listening. He’s somehow both unbelievably anxious and more relaxed than he’s ever been. His hands feel unusually warm. Shit, Harley asked him something. How long has it been since she asked it? It feels like it’s been forever. But that can’t be true. The more time he spends thinking about it how long it’s been the longer it _will_ have been and the weirder it will seem that he hasn’t answered. “What’d’ya say?” he mumbles finally, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm.

“I don’t remember.” She giggles. Covers her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He tilts his head slightly. Stares out the window. There’s a kid walking by. Kid with a skateboard. He has the sinking feeling that she somehow knows they’re high. But that doesn’t make sense. She hasn’t even looked in their direction. But he’s still worried that she _knows_. “You’re gonna dye your hair?”

“What?”

“I thought you said… never mind, doesn’t matter.”

She pokes him in the shoulder. “Do you wanna eat?”

“No. Yes.” He shrugs. His anxiety is making him vaguely nauseous, but at the same time he’s practically starving. “I want… potatoes. Fries.”

“There’s like… I think there’s a McDonald’s over thataway.” She gestures loosely towards the window.

“I want _good_ fries.”

“McDonald’s fries _are_ good.”

He wrinkles his nose. Shakes his head. “Do you think if we ordered somethin’ from somewhere they’d deliver it to the car?”

“We could try.” She takes out her cell phone. Types in three numbers. “Hey.”

“What?”

“How ya feeling?”

“Better.”

“Good.” She looks down at her phone. “Who was I gonna call?”

Jonathan shrugs. Tries to remember. Call… he should call Edward. “I should call… no, that’s a terrible idea.”

“What idea?”

“I was going to call my boyfriend.” He likes how that sounds. His boyfriend. Edward is his boyfriend. It’s a nice word. Boyfriend. Cute. It’s cute. “I’m not gonna call him, it was a bad idea.”

“You could text him.”

“Yeah.” He should text him. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna do that.” He reaches into his pocket. Frowns. “Where’s my phone?”

“In your pocket?”

“I just looked there, it’s not—oh.” It was in his other pocket. He takes it out. “What should I say?”

She shrugs. “Somethin’ gay.”

“Great.” He thinks for a moment before typing, “I don’t know why you like me but I’m glad you do also can you buy the fancy seltzer with the flavors? You know the one.” Sends it. Perhaps he should’ve thought more carefully before doing so. It’s probably fine. He puts his phone back in his pocket before he can send anything else.

“I’m fucking hungry,” Harley whines. “Can we pleeeeeease go somewhere?”

“Yeah, let’s, um, yeah. I want to eat.”

“Great, let’s go.”

“Where?”

“We’ll figure it out on the way. C’mon.”

He sighs, opening the door and stepping out of the car. He doesn’t want to do this ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u can't tell me that Jonathan Keeny Crane never got high in college i don't care how much of a nerd he is i don't care about any of it this boy got high in college like everyone else deal with it
> 
> this chapter is dumb lol


	15. Queen of Pentacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated this fic in a very long time and I am very sorry for that. For some reason I have a hard time getting motivated to write stuff for this but I crapped out this chapter so I'm uploading this. It's very short, and it is mostly dialogue (sort of). Who's to say if it's good or not?

“Yeah… Yeah, I know… No, Mom, I haven’t talked to him… You _know_ why.” Edward sighs heavily, leaning back against Jonathan’s chest. “I don’t care if he’s my dad, he’s a piece of shit… Sorry. Piece of crap.”

Jonathan scoffs at that. Turns a page in his textbook.

Edward swats his arm lightly, shifting his phone to the other ear. “Either way, I don’t want to talk to him… Oh, so you can divorce him and move to another state, but if I don’t want to call the guy suddenly _I’m_ the rude one.” He rolls his eyes. “No… I know… I _know_ … Yeah, I’m seeing someone… Well, actually I’m—No, she’s not Jewish, and actually I’m not dating a—No… No, Mom, I’m gay. Remember? I came out when I was, like, fourteen… No, I wasn’t kidding.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jonathan mutters. “She thought you were kidding?”

“Shh,” he hisses. “No, I wasn’t shushing you,” he says into the phone. “That was my boyfriend, actually… Mhm… No, he’s not Jewish.” He nudges Jonathan’s textbook off of his lap, shifting into a more comfortable position against him. “Look, I have to go, I—No… Oh my God, _Mom…_ Yes, we are… Not to freak you out or anything, but I’ve been having sex for four years, I know how condoms work. I gotta go… Okay… Yeah, okay… Love you too. Bye.” He hangs up, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Have you actually been sexually active since you were fourteen?”

Edward wrinkles his nose. “Don’t say ‘sexually active’, you sound like a middle aged doctor.”

“So, is that a yes?”

He shrugs. “We all have to start somewhere.”


	16. Page of Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> underage drinking isn't cool, kids.

Jonathan shrinks into a corner of the room, hand wrapped tightly around a plastic cup of what must be the most disgusting beer in existence. He tries not to feel too betrayed by both Harley and Edward for abandoning him at this nightmare of a party. It’s not their fault they’re normal humans who enjoy interacting with other normal humans at a social gathering. He takes a sip of the drink, harnessing all of his willpower to refrain from spitting it right back into the cup.

“Hey.”

His heart sinks into his stomach. Wonderful. He has to talk to someone now. “Hello.”

“You’re Jonathan, right?”

He nods stiffly.

“I’m Becky. Harley’s friend. I don’t know if she’s mentioned me at all.”

“Once or twice. She bought you a notebook.”

“Yep. You came out to her when she bought me that notebook.”

He feels his cheeks warm. “Oh. She told you about that.”

“Yeah. She was excited to have more gay friends.”

“Queer,” he corrects quietly.

“What?”

“I don’t really… call myself gay. I’m queer.” Is he going to have to do this all the time from now on?

“Oh. You should probably say bisexual instead.”

“Well, I’m not bisexual, so it’d be kind of weird to call myself that.”

She purses her lips. Says nothing.

He doesn’t want to keep talking to her, but it’s much more awkward to stand next to her silently. He changes the subject. “So… You want to go to law school?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” He decides he’s actually in Hell. He takes another sip of the awful beer. Anything to avoid speaking to her.

“Hey, there you are!” Edward says brightly, weaving his way through the crowd. “Have you been hiding in this corner the whole time?”

“No.” Yes.

“Who’s this?” he asks, turning to Becky.

“Rebecca.”

“I prefer Becky,” she says, smiling tensely.

“I think you should stick to Rebecca,” Edward offers, his words running together slightly. “It makes you sound less WASP-y.” He grabs onto Jonathan’s sleeve, pulling him in the direction he came from. “I’m gonna have to borrow him, if you don’t mind. Nice meeting you!” he calls over his shoulder, dragging Jonathan across the room.

“Thanks for gettin’ me away from her.”

“Mhm, I mean, what’s the point of having a boyfriend if he’s not gonna save you from awkward conversations with annoying strangers?”

“Uh-huh. Are you drunk?”

“Are you _not_?”

“I have class tomorrow.”

“Oh my _God,_ you’re in _college,_ who _cares_ if you have class tomorrow?” He turns abruptly, jabbing Jonathan’s chest with his index finger. “You’re gonna put down that nasty drugstore beer and you’re gonna come take shots with me. And then afterwards, we’re gonna get a cab because drunk driving terrifies me, and we’re gonna make out in the back of the cab and then we’re gonna make out at home and then I’m gonna make you drink water because I love you and I don’t want you to have a bad hangover, ’kay?”

“I… what?”

“C’mon, they have tequila, you’re gonna _hate_ it, I’m gonna make you suck on a lime, let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can y'all tell that i don't go to parties lmao


	17. Five of Cups

“Wow, you look like shit.”

Jonathan sits down heavily, kicking his bag underneath his desk. “I want to die.”

“How much did you drink?” Harley asks, passing him a cup of coffee and a pile of sugar packets.

“Too much. Edward made me do shots with him.” He takes the top off the coffee, emptying four sugars into it. Takes a sip. Good enough.

“Vodka?”

“Tequila.”

“Damn, he’s not fucking around.”

Jonathan groans, resting his head on the desk. “How are you so functional?  We were at the same party.”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her own coffee. “I didn’t drink.”

“You’re kiddin’ me.”

“Nope. Alcohol tastes like shit, dude.” She opens her bag, taking out a plastic container with what appears to be some sort of crepe inside. “I was super fucking high though.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Listen, I’m not trying to be the only sober person at the party, okay? That’s a sad, boring life that I don’t want to live.” She takes out another container full of scrambled eggs. “Want some?” she asks, gesturing with the eggs.

“I’m good. I feel like if I eat that I’ll definitely throw up.”

“Understandable.”

“Why do you have two breakfasts?” he asks.

“I’m hungry,” she says simply, opening a ketchup packet and emptying the contents onto her eggs. “Did you do the notes?”

“I… yeah.”

“Who the fuck is Ernst Weber? He was like a key figure from the syllabus, but the chapter didn’t explain who he was _at all_.”

“He came up with Weber’s law. Why did you put ketchup on your eggs?”

“Because it’s good. The savory taste of the ketchup on the eggs really juxtaposes with the sweetness of the crepe. What’s Weber’s law? Is that the one about difference threshold?”

“Yeah, sort of. And that sounds disgusting. You’re makin’ me nauseous just lookin’ at you.”

“Well then don’t look.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy hanukkah to all my jewish folk!!
> 
> also i strongly dislike the ending of this chapter but i had a rlly rough day and i do not have the willpower to write anything better


	18. Seven of Pentacles

“How was class?”

“We had a discussion.” Jonathan flops onto the bed, shoving his face into his pillow. “Everyone in my class is so fuckin’ stupid,” he mumbles.

Edward presses a kiss against the nape of his neck, tracing circles over his shoulder blades. “You’re obviously too smart for that school. You could’ve gone somewhere better.”

“Bein’ smart doesn’t pay tuition.”

 “Which is why, when I take over the world, income will be determined by IQ and practical skills.”

“Sounds like a good system.” He rolls onto his back. “How much money would I make?”

“Millions. No question.” He taps his fingers against Jonathan’s chest. “Speaking of money…”

“Oh God, did you spend all our rent money on that artisanal olive gift box?”

“No. But if I don’t get that gift box for Hanukkah, I will break up with you.”

“Noted. What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say… I might be getting a new job soon.”

“Hey, that’s great!” he exclaims, sitting up. “What job?”

“It’s a position with the GCPD as an assistant forensic lab tech,” he says carefully.

“Don’t you need to have a college degree for that?”

“As far as they’re concerned, I do.”

“Okay, follow up question: are you trying to scam the police department into givin’ you a job?”

“Irrelevant.” He absently walks his fingers down Jonathan’s leg. “It’s not decided yet, but the interviewer said I’m one of their most qualified candidates, so I think I have a really good shot.”

“I don’t see how you can be their most qualified candidate, you’re eighteen and—I cannot stress this enough—do not have a college degree. You’re not even enrolled in a college.”

“The only problem is, it’s an internship,” he continues, “and it pays less than the job I have now. _But,_ if I do well and they like me I’d be able to get a permanent position. And that would pay way better.”

“So… you’re asking me if it’s worth it to take the job or not?”

He nods.

Jonathan exhales slowly, lying back against the pillows. “How long would it take to get a permanent position?”

“About a semester. Maybe a couple months more.”

“And how much is the salary?”

“Nine dollars an hour. So I’d probably make two hundred dollars a week or so.”

He bites his lip, staring up at the ceiling. “Okay,” he begins, “here’s the thing. I’m confident that, if you get this internship, you can turn it into a real job. So I’m not really worried long term. But until then, you’d be makin’ half the money you usually do, and that’s what’s… concerning.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t take it.”

“Not necessarily.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know how much you hate the restaurant job, and I want you to be able to do something you like. And I think you’d be an amazing forensics technician.”

“Just tell me what you think I should do,” Edward says, tapping Jonathan’s wrist insistently.

“I think we should take a look at our budget and see if we can just… move some things around. Find a way to make it work. Because I care about you. And I want you to be happy.” He gives Edward’s forearm a gentle squeeze. “If we can figure something reasonable out, then I think you should take it. And if we can’t… I still think you should take it but you might have to keep working part time at your current job.”

He nods slowly, running his fingers through his hair. “Okay,” he mumbles. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Worst case scenario, I’ll call Karen and guilt her into payin’ our rent for a little while.”

“We’ve had the option to guilt your mom into giving us money this _whole time_ and you didn’t tell me?” Edward gasps, feigning shock.

“It’s literally the last thing I would want to do, but I will do it for you. _That’s_ how much I like you.”

He beams down at Jonathan, bending to kiss the tip of his nose. “You’re a good boyfriend.”

“I know. But if you don’t get a full time position after this I’m gonna leave you for someone rich and old.”

“I wholeheartedly understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at these kids being responsible cogs in a capitalist machine  
> also i got the idea of a forensic tech internship from Dexter bc that was like a plot point in one season and i was like mmmm that's some shit eddie would like


	19. Two of Wands

“You know, we’ve never gone on a real date.”

“What d’you consider a ‘real date’?” Jonathan mumbles, resting his forehead against the nape of Edward’s neck.

“You know. Dinner. Movie. Just like… a nice outing.” He nestles against Jonathan’s chest, trailing his fingers up and down the back of his palm. “We should do something.”

“I don’t know if we can afford to.”

“Trust me, we can. I’m the master of cheap dates.”

“If you can come up with something, I’m all for it,” he says, pressing a kiss against the back of his head.

“’Kay. I have a couple ideas, I just need to figure out prices and get supplies. Do I have a spending limit?”

He shrugs. “I trust you to handle money stuff.”

“Alright.”

“I’ve never… been on a date before,” Jonathan says softly, toying with the edge of the blanket.

“It’s going to be fun, you’ll love it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Get some sleep,” Edward murmurs, bringing Jonathan’s hand to his lips. He kisses the base of his palm.

“I’ll try.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short lil somethin


	20. Five of Pentacles

“Do you think she’s cute?”

“Sure,” Jonathan says, not looking up from his shopping list.

“You’re not even _pretending_ to be interested,” Harley whines.

“Sorry.” He squints at the phone being aimed in his direction, scanning the girl’s Tinder profile. “She’s… fine.”

“Fine like okay or fine like _fine_?”

“Fine like okay. D’you see marshmallows in this aisle?”

“I think they’re in the next one over. What about her?” she asks, showing him another profile.

“She’s cute I guess,” he says absently, pushing the cart into the next aisle. “I think he wanted red vines too, d’you see those?”

“We passed them already. They were with the other candies.” She peeks over his shoulder at the list. “Why do you need all this stuff?”

“Date night.”

“You’re shopping for a date night at the dollar store?”

“Some of us don’t have parents that can cover all our expenses,” he mutters, trying not to sound overwhelmingly bitter.

“Don’t you get an employee discount at the place you work at?” she continues, seemingly unbothered by the remark. He’s not quite sure she even heard it.

“Only ten percent.”

“Wow, that’s… depressing. Where does your boyfriend work?”

“Restaurant. He might quit though. Can you tell me what that says?” He passes her the list, pointing to the third item.

“Candles.” She hands the paper back. “This is _your_ handwriting.”

“I know.” He frowns at the list. “I need to start writing bigger.”

“What you _need_ is a pair of glasses.”

“Glasses are expensive, and I can’t really—” Jonathan cuts himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Things are sort of… tight right now.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine. We’re managing.”

“If you want, I could lend you—”

“It’s fine,” he repeats, more tersely than he’d intended. “Can you grab candles? I’ll finish up the food stuff.”

“Sure. What type of candles?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like pillar, tealight, votive…” She trails off, taking in Jonathan’s blank stare. “Nevermind. I’ll use my discretion.”

“Thanks.”

She nods, quickly disappearing around the corner into another aisle.


	21. The Chariot

Jonathan deposits the shopping bags on the kitchen counter, debating whether to unpack the items now or leave it for Future Jonathan to deal with. He sighs. Future Jonathan always gets the short end of the stick. He leaves the bags on the counter. Goes into the bedroom.

There is a large lump beneath the blankets. Edward, presumably. He sits down on the edge of the mattress, tapping what he thinks is Edward’s shoulder. “Hey. You asleep?”

Edward doesn’t say anything. He shifts, one hand reaching blindly out from within his blanket bundle. His fingers graze the side of his leg. Jonathan takes his hand into his own. Gives a quick squeeze. “Hey,” he says again.

“Hi,” comes the muffled reply.

“Are you feelin’ okay?” he murmurs.

“I’m sad.” He rolls over, raising his head to rest it on Jonathan’s thigh. “Stressed.”

“D’you want to talk about it?” he asks, pushing the blankets back to expose the top of his head. He strokes his hair gently.

“I’m worried about work,” he mumbles. “And I miss my mom. And… I don’t know. I feel like I’m not… doing things right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’m not even in school.”

“You hate school.”

“Everyone hates school.”

“I don’t.” He twists a small lock of hair around his finger. “You’re not in school because you don’t want to be. And you don’t have to be.”

“I should be.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what people do!” he snaps, sitting up. “People go to college and they get good jobs and they have good lives and I—I _want_ that.” Jonathan can tell he’s fighting to keep from crying. He pushes his fingers roughly through his hair. “ _No one_ in my family had that, and I don’t want to end up like them.”

“Do you really think that just because you’re not in college you’re going to end up like your father?”

“I didn’t say father. I said family.”

“I know what you meant.”

“You know what I said. I said family.”

He sighs. “Edward, you’re brilliant. You were able to get an internship with the police department without being in college.”

“I haven’t gotten it yet.”

“But they’re considering you. And that’s impressive. I couldn’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t need to.”

“Will you just listen to me, please?” he says. It comes out harsher than he intended. “If you can pull a job like that as an eighteen year old without being in college, then you don’t _need_ to go to college.”

“You don’t know that,” he says quietly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “You don’t know that I’ll even get the job.”

“I know that you’re insanely smart. And talented.” He reaches out, wrapping his arms around Edward. Pulls him against his chest. He can feel his shoulders start to shake. “And you’re nothing like your father.”

Edward lets out a sob, clutching at the back of Jonathan’s shirt. “What if you’re wrong, what if you’re—what if I’m—”

“Shh,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“What if I’m not smart enough?” he whispers. “What if I can’t—”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, I—fuck, I’m being really stupid, aren’t I?”

“You’re not stupid. You just put too much pressure on yourself.” He pulls back slightly, smoothing Edward’s hair away from his face. He delivers a kiss to his forehead. “Call your mom.”

“Call _your_ mom.”

He rolls his eyes. “If you miss her, you should call her.”

“…I know.” He exhales shakily, leaning his forehead against Jonathan’s shoulder. “I’ll call her. Later.”

“Good.”


	22. Three of Pentacles

“You live in a terrible part of town,” Harley remarks, peering through a gap in the blinds.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t have money?”

“I’m just making an observation.” She squints. “I think someone’s getting mugged across the street.”

“What else is new?” Jonathan mutters. “I thought you wanted to study.”

“Okay, okay sorry.” She moves away from the window, perching on the arm of the sofa. “Quiz me.”

“Okay. Can you explain operant conditioning?”

“It’s like… oh! It’s when you, like, learn that your behavior has consequences so you increase or decrease the behavior to produce the desired result.”

“Good. And classical conditioning?”

“It’s when you unconsciously link an unconditioned stimulus to a response so when the stimulus becomes conditioned it’ll always produce the response.” She takes her glasses off, wiping them on her sleeve. “Is your boyfriend going to be home soon?”

“Probably. What’s the difference between reinforcement and punishment?”

“Reinforcement always increases a behavior and punishment always decreases it.”

“And the difference between positive and negative reinforcement?”

“Positive reinforcement is when you increase a behavior to get more of something good, and negative is when you increase a behavior to stop something bad. Did you tell him I was coming over?”

“Yes.” He flips through his notebook. “Do you want to move on to gestalts or parts of the brain?”

“I’m boooooooooooored,” Harley whines, pushing Jonathan’s notebook onto the floor. “Past me wanted to be responsible and study but present me is realizing that I’d rather just fail the final, drop out of school, and live my life in the woods with a beautiful gay woodland elf.”

“Okay, well tell present you that this isn’t Lord of the Rings and you need to study for the final.”

“Just let me have my dream.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, bending to pick the notebook up. “Let’s just do one more unit and then you can take a break, okay?”

“Fine,” she sighs. She leans back against the couch in defeat. “Let’s do parts of the brain.”

The front door swings open and Edward enters the apartment, still in his work clothes. “Hey,” he says, taking his shoes off and placing them carefully in the designated shoe area.

“Hi. Harley’s here.”

“I noticed.” He waves to her, offering a weary smile. “Hi.”

“Hi!” she exclaims. She gets up from the sofa, crossing the room to shake Edward’s hand vigorously. “It’s _so_ nice to finally meet you! Jonathan has told me _so much_ about you.”

“Oh?” he asks, casting a glance at Jonathan over her shoulder.

“Of course! All good things, obviously.”

“That’s good. I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you as well.” He shrugs off his jacket. “Jonathan says you’re really smart.”

“Oh, you know, I’m alright. Can’t focus for the life of me, but I’m a great test taker so it sort of balances out. If anything _he’s_ the smart one, I mean, he actually tries. I’m just getting by. Somehow.”

“If anything, I think that makes you smarter,” Jonathan interjects. “You don’t have to try.”

“While you two battle over who’s the biggest nerd, I’m going to go change and try to get a shower in before dinner.” Edward folds his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. “It was really nice to meet you, Harley.”

“Right back at ya!” she chirps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i didn't proofread this and i don't quite like it but at least it's something i guess  
> also i have a ko-fi now (ko-fi.com/nbspock) so if u want to help me pay for college textbooks/other college stuff maybe check that out and if you want i'll write you a little drabble or something as a thank you


	23. Two of Cups

“No peeking.”

“Even if I wanted to peek, I can’t see for shit.”

“Still. It’s about principle.” Edward takes Jonathan’s hand, leading him down a narrow dirt path.

Jonathan squeezes his eyes shut. “Not peeking.”

“Okay. Almost there.” They walk for a few minutes, Jonathan stumbling slightly behind Edward. After a while Edward stops. Squeezes his hand. “Stay there.”

He can hear Edward’s footsteps recede and he shivers against the cold of the evening air. He’ll never get used to how cold it is here.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

He does. Looks around. It’s… “A graveyard?”

Edward grins, perched precariously on one of the headstones. “Just like old times.”

Candles are arranged carefully around the area. There’s a sheet laid out on the ground—not one of the good ones, of course. Edward would develop an ulcer if one of their nice sheets touched dirt. Spread out on the sheets are all the things Jonathan bought earlier that week, along with two plates and two large, opaque containers. “Did you cook?”

“Called my mom, asked for her recipes. Latkes, pierogis,” he says, indicating the respective containers. “Not really a balanced meal, but you said you wanted to try them.” He stands up. “Picnics are a classic cheap date, the cemetery is for ambiance and nostalgia, and you’ll be happy to know that all of this fits into our budget.” He folds his hands behind his back. “Do you like it?” he asks sheepishly.

“Of course I like it,” he murmurs. “You’re sweet.”

Edward beams, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I try.” He sits down on the sheet, opening the containers. He places a few latkes and pierogis on a plate, passing it to Jonathan. “Try these.”

He sits as well. Leans forward to press a kiss to Edward’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says softly. “Eat a latke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> date night with jewish food in a cemetery? sounds like a good time 2 me


	24. Eight of Cups

Jonathan sets a cup of tea down in front of Harley, standing awkwardly beside the couch. “Is there anything else I can get you?” he asks softly.

Harley sniffles, wiping roughly at her eyes. She has eyeliner and mascara ground into her skin. A large bruise is growing just above her cheekbone. Finger shaped marks decorate either side of her throat. “I’m okay,” she mumbles. She takes the cup into her hands. Takes a sip. “Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Sure,” he murmurs. He sits down beside her, folding his hands in his lap. “So. This was… Evan?”

“Daniel,” she corrects, taking another sip of the tea. “With the long hair.”

“Daniel,” he repeats.

“I thought… He seemed so nice, y’know? He seemed like a good guy.” She takes in a shaky breath. “Men are trash.”

“Yeah.”

“From now on I’m only dating girls,” she says, resting her head on Jonathan’s shoulder.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“I have to see him in class tomorrow,” she says quietly. “We have calc together. We… we always used to work together and…” She trails off, sobbing quietly. Covers her mouth with her hand. “Fuck,” she mumbles. “This fucking sucks.”

“Maybe you could tell your counselor? Have them move your schedule around.”

“They might make me talk to the police. Or tell my parents.”

“You could drop calculus.”

“I need the credits.”

“We could always just kill Daniel,” he suggests. “It might be cathartic.”

“We’d go to jail.”

“But then you’d never have to see him in class again.”

She laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You got me there.”

Jonathan squeezes her shoulder gently in an attempt to be comforting. “Do you want to stay the night? Or a ride home or somethin’?”

“Will Edward be mad if I stay over?”

“No. He likes you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s good. I like him too,” she murmurs. “He seems good for you.”

“Yeah. I think he is.” He pats her arm. “Get some sleep. I’ll make you eggs in the morning if you want.”

“Do you have ketchup?”

“Yes, Harley. We have ketchup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to make this have an actual plot so...... conflict on the horizon?????? stay tuned....................................


	25. Five of Wands

Jonathan squints, his eyes straining against harsh neon lights confronting him. He never cared for neon lights. He tries to get his bearings. His face hurts. His hands are wet.

Gas station. He’s outside of a gas station. That’s interesting, considering he doesn’t seem to have driven there. He can’t think of a reason why he would have walked to a gas station.

He looks down at his hands. That’s… probably blood. Okay. That’s fine.

Jonathan decides that he should probably find a bathroom. Clean up. Maybe that’s why he went to the gas station in the first place.

He goes into the gas station convenience store, flinching slightly at the bell triggered by the opening of the door. Makes his way to the back of the store. He can feel the woman at the cash register staring at him. He slips into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door. He flicks on the light. Looks at himself in the mirror.

Well, fuck.

His lip is swollen and slowly leaking blood. There’s more blood seeping from just beneath his hairline. A scrape on his cheek with bits of gravel ground into it. Bruising around his eye. No wonder the woman was staring at him.

He turns the faucet on, running his hands under the water. It stings slightly. His knuckles must be scraped too. As the blood spirals down the drain, it stains the grimy basin with a faint, rusty shade of red.

With most of the mess on his hands cleared away, Jonathan turns his attention to his face. He takes a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, holding them under the faucet. He gingerly begins to clear away the dirt and blood ground into his cheek. Winces slightly. Moves on to his lip. The actual cut isn’t as bad as the amount of blood coming from it seemed to indicate. That’s good. It should heal quickly. There’s nothing much to be done about his eye, so he cleans the trail of blood leading up to his forehead and tosses the clump of paper towels into the trash. Leaves the bathroom.

He’s halfway through the store when he hears a faint, “Excuse me.”

He turns. The woman at the register is staring at him again.

“The restroom is for paying customers only,” she says, her face a mix of concern and vague disgust. “You have to buy something.”

Jonathan sighs, digging through his pockets. He has… seven dollars. Seven dollars and twelve cents. Great.

He approaches the counter, depositing the money in front of the woman. “I’ll take whatever the cheapest cigarettes are,” he says. It hurts to speak. Everything hurts.

She nods slowly. Puts the pack on the counter. “With tax that’s seven fifty.”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I only have seven twelve.”

“Look, it’s—It’s fine. Seven twelve is fine.” She collects the money. “Do you want the receipt?”

“No.”

“Is there… someone you want me to call?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

He puts the cigarettes into his pocket. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Have a good night.”

He leaves the store. He sighs again. Now he has no money, no way to get home, and no idea what is going on.

He takes his phone out of his pocket. Dials. Holds the phone to his ear, willing the other person to pick up.

“Hello?” the voice says through the speaker.

“Edward? Can you come pick me up?”


	26. The Moon

“Tell me what you remember.”

Jonathan shakes his head. Stares down at the cigarette between his fingers. It’s not lit. He doesn’t have a lighter. He doesn’t know why he’s holding it. “I can’t remember anything.”

“Try,” Edward murmurs. “I need you to try.”

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think I was in… a parking lot? Or… No. I don’t know. Somewhere with concrete.”

“Do you remember who you were fighting?” Edward asks.

“A guy. I think.” He can only remember it in flashes. A fist connecting with flesh. A glimpse of long hair. A body hitting the ground. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Is there anything at all that you can tell me?” he murmurs.

“I don’t—He might be—Shit, Edward, what if he’s… not alive?” he rasps. His fingers begin to tremble.

“I don’t think you’re strong enough to have beaten someone to death,” Edward says, smoothing Jonathan’s hair away from his forehead. “He’s probably fine.”

“I saw him fall,” he mumbles. “I think. He didn’t look fine.”

“You didn’t kill anyone.”

“I might have.”

“Jonathan—”

“You know me,” Jonathan says softly. “You saw what I did to that kid back home. And to—”

“You didn’t kill anyone,” Edward repeats. “I promise. He’s fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. You weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, you have no muscle to speak of, and you’re… you’re _you_ ,” he murmurs. “You’re sweet, and smart, and lovely and you wouldn’t just…kill someone.”

“But I have.”

“That doesn’t count. Abusers don’t count.”

“Edward—”

“Stop,” he says. “I’m going to take you home and bandage you up, and then you’re going to get some sleep. And we’ll talk in the morning.” He pats Jonathan’s cheek, carefully avoiding his various injuries. “I’ll look online for police reports or local news reports. See what comes up. Okay?”

He nods. Looks down at his hands again. “I don’t know why I can’t remember,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay,” Edward says, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how to write.................plot.............................................i have no idea what i'm doing folks


	27. Judgement

“You’re going to be late for class,” Edward murmurs, pressing his cheek against Jonathan’s shoulder.

“Not goin’.”

“You’re not going?”

Jonathan shakes his head. Stares dully at the wall. “I feel like shit.”

Edward wraps an arm around his waist. “Is there anything I can do?” he asks.

“No.”

He’s silent for a few moments. Trails his fingers over Jonathan’s forearm. “There were seven reported assaults in the area last night,” he says after a while. “Five of which couldn’t have been you for one reason or another.”

“And the other two?”

“Didn’t have enough details available for me to be able to tell.”

“Oh.”

“No murders, though.”

He doesn’t respond. Rolls over onto his right side, burying his face in the curve of Edward’s neck. He grasps at the back of Edward’s shirt.

He feels Edward’s fingers brush the nape of his neck, working their way into his hair. “Talk to me,” he murmurs. “I want to help.”

Jonathan inhales shakily. His throat feels tight. “I’m not a good person,” he says quietly, his words muffled by Edward’s skin. “I have nightmares about… about all the things I’ve done. To people.” He shivers slightly. Tightens his grip on Edward’s shirt. “I don’t know why I’m like this,” he whispers.

“…Do you think it would help to talk to someone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, a therapist or something.”

“I can’t afford to go to a therapist.”

“Your school might offer free counseling,” Edward says. “You could look into it.”

“Do _you_ think I should see a therapist?”

“I just want you to feel better,” he says softly, stroking his hair. “You don’t deserve to feel so terrible all the time.”

“Yes I do,” Jonathan mutters.

“No. You don’t.”


	28. Justice

“Your phone’s ringing.”

Jonathan grumbles something unintelligible. He doesn’t move from his place on the bed.

Edward sighs, reaching over him to pick the phone up from the bedside table. “Hello? No, it’s Edward. Jonathan is being a baby and won’t pick up his phone… It’s complicated… Hold on, I’ll ask.” Edward lowers the phone. “It’s Harley. Do you want to talk to her?”

“No.” He puts his hand out for the phone anyway. Edward deposits it in his palm. Puts his headphones back in. “Hi Harley,” Jonathan mumbles, sitting up.

“Hey,” Harley says. “Why weren’t you in class today?”

“Not feeling well. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Listen, you won’t _believe_ what happened today.”

“What happened?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

“So I was in calc, right, just depressed out of my fucking mind because I knew Daniel was going to be there and I did _not_ want to see him, and I’m just like dreading the moment that he arrives because I know he’s going to want to _talk_ to me and, like, try to get me back, y’know? And who can blame him, I’m pretty fucking delightful—”

“Is there a point to this?”

“Sorry, got sidetracked. So anyway, he _finally_ shows up, like twenty minutes into class, and he’s got the biggest black eye I’ve ever _seen_ , I mean, it was _enormous_ , and he’s got all these scrapes and bruises and shit just all over, it was like he’d been hit by a car.”

Jonathan feels his mouth go dry. “Oh?” he says quietly, a lump formig in his throat. “What happened to him?”

“No idea, I’d rather die than talk to him so I didn’t ask. I might check his Insta though, see if he posted anything. Or maybe Snapchat.” Harley scoffs derisively. “Probably tried to grope some girl and got his ass kicked. Serves him right.”

“Yeah, probably.” He clears his throat. “Listen, Harley, I’m really not feeling good, can I talk to you later?”

“Yeah, of course! Oh also, I emailed you the notes from class today—you’re welcome.”

“Thank you. Bye.”

“Bye! Feel better.”

He hangs up. Sets his phone back on the nightstand.

Edward takes one earbud out. “What did she want?” he asks, eyes still fixed on his computer.

“Nothing. School stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short bleh


	29. Five of Swords

“Jonathan.”

Jonathan groans, pulling the blankets up to his head.

“Babe,” Edward says insistently. He pokes Jonathan in the ribs, trying to get his attention. “Wake up.”

“Go ‘way.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Tell me in an hour.” He shifts beneath the covers, wrapping his arms around himself. “Two hours,” he corrects.

“I got the job.”

“You got…” He emerges from his blanket bundle, rubbing his eyes. “The internship?”

Edward nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “I start next Monday.”

“That’s great, Ed,” Jonathan mumbles, still thoroughly groggy. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Edward crawls into bed beside Jonathan, wrapping his arms around his waist. He kisses the back of his neck. “Are you going to go to class today?”

“No. Yes.” He sighs, relaxing slightly in Edward’s arms. “I should. I don’t want to.”

“What’s wrong?” Edward murmurs, pressing his cheek against Jonathan’s back. “Is this… Are you upset about the fight?”

“I… It’s complicated.”

“Talk to me. I want to help.”

He’s silent for a while. Takes a few moments to just… enjoy the feeling of being held. Of being warm. He never feels warm anymore. “If you do a bad thing,” he begins carefully, “but you do it to a bad person… is that… morally okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like. Let’s say I killed someone—”

“You didn’t kill anyone,” Edward interrupts.

“I know. It’s a hypothetical. But let’s say I killed someone,” he says again, “but the person I killed was… like a rapist. Is that… okay?”

“Morally?”

“Yes.”

“Well… _I_ think it’s fine.” He shrugs. “Personally, I don’t think people like that deserve to be alive.”

“Oh.”

“Is there… Is there something you want to tell me, Jonathan?” Edward asks quietly.

Jonathan inhales slowly, his breathing unsteady. He pulls his knees up to his chest. “I think I know what I did,” he mumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm planning on wrapping this up soon (six more chapters at most) but i have other projects in the works so if you like this and want to see more of my writing keep an eye out for that ;)


	30. Page of Pentacles

“This came in the mail for you,” Edward says, dropping a thin envelope into Jonathan’s lap. “From your mother.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s the third one this month,” Jonathan mutters, depositing the envelope on the table. “I thought she would just take a hint and leave me alone.”

“Apparently she’s hell bent on having a relationship with you. Go figure.” Edward sits on the couch beside Jonathan, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Tired?”

“Mhm.”

“How was work?”

“Not awful. My new boss is nice. Drinks too much coffee, but she’s nice. And I got to write a toxicology report.”

“So you like it?” he asks, extending an arm around Edward’s shoulders.

“Yeah. Way more than my old job.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“So,” Edward begins, walking two of his fingers up Jonathan’s leg. “Your birthday is in a few days.”

“Is it?”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“I was thinking we could do something,” Edward murmurs. “Dinner, or something.”

“It’s just a birthday. And I don’t know if we can afford to do anything.”

“I’ve been saving up.” He climbs into Jonathan’s lap, wrapping his arms loosely around his neck. “And I want you to have a nice birthday for once. You said you’ve never celebrated before.”

“I haven’t.”

“So. Let’s celebrate.” He dips his head to kiss the base of Jonathan’s jaw. “You’ve been dealing with a ton of shit lately. I want you to have something nice. Because I love you. And you deserve it.” Each sentence is punctuated with a small kiss.

“…Fine. We can do dinner. Or something.”

Edward beams. “Really?”

“Yeah. As long as you set everything up, I’m all for it.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, kissing the tip of his nose. “Open that thing from your mom,” he says as he relinquishes his seat on Jonathan’s lap.

“But I don’t _want_ to.”

“I know, but _I_ want to know what’s inside.”

“Then you open it,” Jonathan says, passing the envelope to Edward.

He tears it open, removing a nauseatingly colorful birthday card. “Do you think she actually remembered your birthday or did she have to look it up somewhere?”

“Definitely had to look it up.” He takes the card from Edward, opening it. A few bills fall out of the card. “She sent me money,” he says slowly. He scans the card.

Edward picks up the bills, counting them. “Two hundred dollars. Not bad.”

“She’s… It’s a bribe.”

“How is it a bribe?”

“She sent me money because… Jesus fucking Christ.”

“What? What does she want?”

“She wants me to come over for dinner. Day before my birthday.” He drops the card onto the floor. “She sent me money as a bribe so I feel obligated to go.”

“Wow.” Edward picks the card up, putting the money back inside. “So. Are you going to go?”

“Only if you’ll come with me.”


	31. The Hanged Man

“So you’re actually gonna go?”

“I’m actually gonna go.” Jonathan sighs, stubbing out his cigarette. “Edward’s coming. So that’s… Well, that’s either a great idea or a terrible one.”

“No, that’s a great idea. He’s smart and charming, your mom’ll _adore_ him. And he can distract them from how awkward and sullen you’re inevitably going to be.” Harley takes a bite of her bagel, carefully avoiding smudging her lipstick. “It should be fine.”

“It’s going to be a nightmare,” he mutters. “We won’t have anything to talk about.”

“Well, you haven’t seen her in a really long time, I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with something.”

He scoffs. “Yeah. Sure. ‘Hey mom, great to see you. What have I been up to? Well, I’m glad you asked. See, I’ve been spending most of my time being broke and beating my friend’s abusive ex half to death. Did I mention that I was so depressed I couldn’t get out of bed for a week?’ You know. Great conversation for a terrible dinner with your estranged mother and her newer, better family.”

“They’re not better than you,” Harley says. “Just… newer. And richer.”

“That’s what makes them better.”

“Look dude,” she begins, taking a sip of her soda. “All you have to do is fake it.”

“Fake it?”

“Yeah. You just waltz in there and act like everything’s perfect and your life is just as great as theirs. You talk about how you’ve got great grades, an amazing boyfriend, and you, like, _never_ smoke cigarettes or get into fights.” She stirs her drink with the straw. “You play up all the good stuff, ignore all the bad stuff, and if they ask about the bad stuff you lie. And then your mom thinks you’re cool and stable and she doesn’t pity you. And then everything’s okay.”

“But everything’s not okay,” Jonathan says quietly. “And I’m not… I don’t like lying.”

“Bullshit, you lie all the time.”

“No I don’t. I just don’t tell people things sometimes.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Shut up.”


	32. Three of Wands

Jonathan clicks his tongue quietly, adjusting his collar. “I look like a butler,” he grumbles.

“It’s not my fault you don’t own any nice shirts.” Edward buttons his own shirt, tucking it into his pants. “I’d let you borrow one of mine if you weren’t so freakishly tall.”

“I’m not _that_ tall.” He sits down on the edge of the bed. “You look nice.”

“I always look nice.” He smoothes his hair down, tucking a stray strand behind his ear. “Do you think your mom will like me?”

“Do you care?”

“Of course I care. Don’t pretend that _you_ don’t.” Edward surveys himself in the mirror. Adjusts his sleeve. “So? Do you think she’ll like me?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know anything about her.”

“She knows I’m coming, right?” he asks, doing the last bits of primping and preening in the mirror. “Does she know you’re queer? Shit, she’s not like a homophobe or something, is she? That’d be awkward. And I’d have to pretend to be your roommate but I can’t resist making a gay joke and outing myself. Like a sitcom except no one’s laughing and we’re all uncomfortable.”

“Yes, she knows you’re coming. No, she doesn’t know I’m queer. I don’t know if she’s homophobic or not because, as I mentioned, I don’t know anything about her. You won’t have to pretend to be my roommate. If she’s homophobic we’ll leave.”

“What if her husband is mean to me? If he’s mean to me I’ll kill him. Straight up.”

“He’s not going to be mean to you.” He motions for Edward to come closer. Takes his hand. “Look,” he says quietly. “I already feel like I’m going to throw up from how anxious I am. Please don’t stress me out with a bunch of hypothetical things that could go wrong.”

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I’m nervous.”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is super short!


	33. Queen of Wands

Jonathan sits stiffly on the couch, listening to Edward chatter on about nothing in particular. He nods here and there. Pretends to be engaged in the conversation. Thank God he brought Edward along. Otherwise he’d have to come up with talking points himself and…well. He doesn’t have anything to say to these people.

“…And I didn’t have the heart to tell my mother that I’d sold the clarinet, so I just said a kid at school broke it,” Edward says, chuckling slightly. “We couldn’t afford to replace it, so I was finally free from clarinet lessons, thank _God_.”

“Why’d you sell it?” the husband—Jake? Josh?—asks. He seems vaguely concerned. Or perhaps it’s more judgmental. Jonathan can’t tell.

Edward shrugs. “I wanted a bike.”

“Couldn’t you have just asked for a bike?”

“I did ask. We couldn’t afford it.”

“It’s just a bike,” he says. “How much does a kid’s bike cost? Fifty bucks?”

“Something like that.” Edward raises an eyebrow. “Do you not know how poverty works?”

“Edward,” Jonathan mutters, nudging him gently.

He quickly switches gears, seamlessly launching into another story. “Once I _had_ the bike, though, that’s when things got _really_ fun.”

He talks for a while longer, every few sentences accompanied by some grand hand gesture. The husband listens, having seemingly forgotten the earlier topic.

As Edward begins to wrap up the story—something about falling out of a tree?—Karen reappears from the bedroom, looking vaguely weary. She taps her husband on the shoulder. “Just put the baby down,” she says.

“Did she give you any trouble?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “She’s been easy lately, it’s amazing. Did you put everything in the oven like I asked you to?”

“Yeah. About ten minutes ago.”

“Great.” She sits down on the arm of his chair, directing her attention toward Jonathan. “So. Nineteen?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Does it feel any different than eighteen?”

“Not really.” He folds his hands in his lap. “After a while, every year sort of feels the same.” Oh. It sounds more depressing than he wanted it to. He changes the subject. “How old is… the baby?” He’s terrible with names.

“Mary. She’s twenty months.”

Just say a year. If it’s over twelve months but under twenty-four, just say a year. “Oh. That’s nice.”

“Looking forward to the terrible twos,” the husband says, his tone indicating that this is supposed to be funny somehow. Jonathan forces a grin. “And then before you know it she’ll be walking and talking and going to preschool.”

“Oh, I can’t _wait_ until she starts school,” Karen says. “I’ll finally have a chance at some peace and quiet.”

“You and me both,” the husband agrees.

Jonathan chuckles politely, digging his nails into his palm.

There’s an awkward silence for a few moments. Karen shifts uncomfortably. Jonathan’s gaze flits around the room. He avoids looking at anyone.

The husband clears his throat after a while. “I think I’m going to… check on the food,” he says lamely.

“I’ll help,” Karen says quickly, getting up.

They disappear into the kitchen. Jonathan can hear them whispering quietly. He sighs, slumping against the back of the sofa. “This is awful,” he grumbles.

Edward shrugs. “Could be worse. At least they’re not like my family.”


	34. The Wheel of Fortune

“So…” Karen says slowly, clearly searching for something to talk about. “How’s… How’s school?”

“Fine,” Jonathan says, pushing the food around on his plate.

“Are you getting good grades?”

“Yes.”

“He’s brilliant,” Edward says brightly, scooping mashed potatoes onto his fork. “Top of his class.”

“Really?” she asks.

“It’s not that much of an accomplishment when you look at the rest of the class,” Jonathan mumbles. “They’re a bunch of idiots, mostly.”

“It’s still great that you’re doing so well.” She leans back in her seat. “You definitely don’t get that from me. I mean, I almost flunked out of community college. Mom always used to say I was so dumb I couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions written on the heel.”

Of course she said that. “Oh.”

She clears her throat, turning to Edward. “What about you, are you in school?”

“Oh, no. I just work,” he says.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m an assistant forensics tech at the police station.”

“Do you analyze crime scenes and evidence and that sort of thing?” the husband asks, taking a sip of his water.

“Well, I’m just an assistant so… not really. I do toxicology reports and cross referencing blood or tissue samples against things we already have in the database.” Edward draws a little swirl in his potatoes with his fork. “Also, forensic science isn’t like what you see on TV. I’m not Dexter or anything like that.”

“Are the cops ever going to catch that guy that’s been breaking windows and robbing people?” he asks. “I’ve been hearing about it on the news for weeks.”

“I don’t know, that’s not really my—”

“But of course the GCPD is totally incompetent. Not like the cops here in Metropolis, I mean, those guys really get things done.”

“Well—”

“Oh, leave the kid alone James,” Karen says, rolling her eyes. _James,_ that’s his name! “He’s just an assistant, he’s not going to reform the GCPD from the inside out.”

“Well _someone_ has to do it.”

“So,” Jonathan says, hoping to change the subject. What can he talk about? The baby! People with babies love to talk about them. “Mary. What’s she like?” Are babies even ‘like’ anything?

“Oh, she’s darling,” Karen says, smiling warmly. “She’s just the cutest little thing! You know, the other day James gave her an olive and—oh, it was _adorable_ —I thought she was going to choke on the pit but she just smiled and spit the pit out! She’s already so smart, isn’t she?”

“So smart,” James echos.

Karen and James take turns telling pointless stories about the baby. Jonathan comes to the conclusion that babies are very, very boring. He wonders if he was so boring when he was a baby.

Edward snags some green beans off Jonathan’s plate while Karen is rambling on about how Mary likes to pinch her elbows, flashing a quick smile at him. He gives Jonathan’s thigh a gentle squeeze beneath the table.

“I’m sure you were a darling baby too, Jonathan,” she says, pulling his attention back to her. “Probably very well behaved.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Did Mom ever say what you were like?”

Grandmother used to say that he almost died when he was young. Sickness or something, She used to say she wished he hadn’t survived so she didn’t have to suffer the burden of caring for him. “I didn’t ask,” he says.

“How’s that old bat doing these days?” she asks. “Have you heard from her lately?”

“Oh, um… She’s dead.”

“…What?”

“She died. Before I left home.” He clears his throat nervously, setting down his fork. “Sorry.”

“What happened to her?”

“…Heart attack.” That’s believable. She was old.

“Oh.” She looks down at her plate.

James reaches over to rub her back. “You alright?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. It was a long time coming. I mean, she was ancient.” She looks up at Jonathan. “Was there a funeral or anything?”

“If there was, I didn’t go.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want to,” he says plainly. “And I don’t think she would’ve wanted me to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sits quietly for a moment. He’s very aware of everyone’s eyes on him. His skin crawls. “She never liked me,” he says slowly. “Not even when I was little.”

“What are you—”

“You don’t know all the things she did to me,” he says, his voice low. “For years. She hated me. And she wouldn’t have wanted me at her funeral. Let’s just leave it at that.”

They sit in silence, punctuated only by the faint scraping of forks as they finish eating. Edward keeps one hand on Jonathan’s leg, tracing small patterns on his thigh in an attempt to soothe him. James casts sneaky glances at Karen throughout the rest of the meal. Karen doesn’t look at anyone. You could cut the tension with a knife. It’s terrible. Terribly uncomfortable. It’s everything he was afraid of.

He shouldn’t have said anything.


	35. The World

Jonathan rolls over onto his stomach, reaching blindly for Edward. He latches onto the edge of his shirt. Moves closer to him.

Edward’s fingers ghost over his bare shoulder. Travel up the back of his neck. Into his hair. “Morning,” he mumbles, fingers probing gently at his scalp.

He hums softly in the back of his throat, leaning into Edward’s touch. “Morning.”

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” He shifts onto his side. Wraps an arm around Edward. “God, last night was a disaster,” he mutters, tucking his head under Edward’s chin.

“Yeah, it was pretty terrible.” He laughs drowsily, kissing the top of Jonathan’s head. “You’re surprisingly good at stirring up drama.”

“I wasn’t stirring up drama.”

“Please, it was like a soap opera in there.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “I didn’t mean to… Do you think I shouldn’t have told her? About my grandmother.”

“No. I think you were right to tell her.”

He buries his face in Edward’s neck, tightening his grip on the fabric of his shirt. “I made everything worse,” he says quietly. “I could’ve just said… I could’ve said I hadn’t heard from her. I could’ve lied. It would’ve been easy to lie.”

“She would’ve found out eventually,” Edward says, trailing his fingers back down his neck. “It’s not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have told her.”

“But you did. And there’s nothing you can do about that.” He kisses Jonathan’s head again. “You’re not a bad person, you’re not wrong for telling her, and it’s not your fault that things were uncomfortable. And I adore you. Stop worrying.”

“What makes you think telling me to ‘stop worrying’ will magically make me feel better?”

“Is it working?”

“…Maybe.”

Edward grins, ruffling Jonathan’s hair. “Do you want to hear what we’re doing today?”

“We’re doing something today?”

“Of course we are. It’s your birthday. We talked about it, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” He rolls over onto his back. “Okay. What are we doing?”

“First,” Edward says, coming to sit atop Jonathan’s thighs, “I’m going to make you breakfast. Pancakes and eggs and whatever else you’d like. Then Harley’s coming over and we’re going to bake a cake for you and we’ll have lunch after.” He presses his palms against Jonathan’s torso. “And then we’re going out to dinner. Just us,” he says softly. “It’s a lovely little place—nice but affordable, _and_ you can get a free appetizer on your birthday.” He bends to press a kiss to the base of Jonathan’s throat. “And _then_ … maybe we can have some fun.”

“Mm,” he murmurs, his hands moving to Edward’s hips. “Sounds nice.”

“Believe me, it will be.” He kisses Jonathan’s neck again. “You will have a nice birthday if it kills me.”

Jonathan laughs softly, sliding one hand up Edward’s back. “I’m sure everything will be lovely.”

“It will be,” he says again. He presses his lips to Jonathan’s. “I love you,” he says softly. “You deserve the world.”

“You’re the only person that thinks so.”

“I’m the only person that needs to.” Edward smoothes Jonathan’s hair away from his face. “You’re such a smart, kind person, and I don’t think people see that in you like I do.”

“I’m not that kind. I’ve done… a lot of awful things.”

“And people have done a lot of awful things to you. But you’re still so sweet to the people you care about. And that says a lot.” He kisses Jonathan again. Softly. “You deserve the world,” he repeats. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! this is the last chapter and, sadly, the last installation in this series. it's been really lovely hearing your opinions and feedback on both this fic and south of hell, and i'm really glad people enjoyed this so much! i have another project in the works so keep an eye out for that, and you can find other things i write on my tumblr @gayestnerdsingotham
> 
> thanks for reading!!


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